


Heaven Knows

by ViceCaptain



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 16:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8021716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViceCaptain/pseuds/ViceCaptain
Summary: Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below.





	Heaven Knows

**Author's Note:**

> Some more delusions, very much inspired by Heaven Knows by Pretty Reckless.

There’s no telling what hurts more at that point. Is it his heart, broken and shattered in thousands pieces, all cutting through his flesh and organs? Is it his brain, trapped into what seems like an endless loop of misery and things repeating always the same? Or are the cuts on his wrists, slicing his skin open, cutting the veins and even reaching the muscles?

Could it be realizing doing that to himself seems like the only acceptable way out?

Damn, that is one painful revelation, having plummeted into such a desperate state when all he wanted was finding his own happy place. Never stepped over anybody else in doing that.

Oh, he can already imagine what they are going to say at his funeral “such a nice boy, never hurt a fly”, “no one saw this coming”…

Bullshit. All of it. And he got so full of frustration and rage that look at what he did to himself. Because he never hurt a fly nor he stepped over the others, bending them over to prove he was better. If nothing, that’s what had happened to him and when even the most important person betrayed him, that is how he vented. And yet, as soon as the funeral will be over, those bigoted hypocrites will say all they really think “he had it coming” “deserved it” “what else did you expect?”. Fine then, let’s give them something to talk about for a month or two: here, that’s how he bites the dust, that’s how his heart stops and with it the pain (it was the heart, then). He can’t even be bothered when the last thing he pictures in his mind is Bill Macy’s voice.

_Knew it since the first time i saw that boy: heaven knows, he belongs way down below._

_Kieren belongs way down below._

It’s his heartbeat. Breaking the silence, letting him understand it is getting slower and slower as he lazily watches his arm, filled with holes. He doesn’t care. That’s it, that’s how it all ends…

_This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper._

And whimper he does as life leaves his body one tired heartbeat at a time. Is it a pity? Is it a waste? He doesn’t know, he never knew and now he’ll never find out. There are worse ways to go or something like that, again he doesn’t care. That’s all he’s leaving behind: a broken, wornout body that went through too much. There’s only one thought that makes sense in his mind, the only knowledge he has at the moment: he’s going down below. It’s funny how the only thing that he can really think about while his brain wastes away, overdosing on chemicals, is a dogma his religious parents tried to nail into his mind since he was a child. Well, apparently it worked because there he is, remembering sunday school and how a 6 year-old can get scared with tales about hell and eternal damnation. And he feels like that scared child right then, no one there to soothe him while he can even hear the jesting choirs of nasty kids making fun of him…

The last words he can make out in his mind are those and he truly whimpers in fright as he draws his last breath… _Heaven knows, you belong way down below._

_Simon belongs way down below._

-*-

 

Kieren picks up another empty can and tosses it carelessly into the half-filled bin, he takes into his surroundings, the other PTSD sufferers forced to take part to that travesty are all scooping up trash and throwing it away, no one complains and neither does he because if he hopes to ever get away from there he can’t raise his voice. And there he thought for a moment that coming back from the dead might have meant a fresh new start, how wrong he had been. That ought to be hell, it would even make sense after he died and woke up like that, maybe that is his punishment. But if that is true, then he must give kudos to whoever came up with such a perfect torture.

Kieren looks around himself once more, everyone apparently feels somehow like they deserve that because they are working just like him. Everyone bent over to pick up other people’s garbage. All but one. Oh, if that is hell then Simon is his personal devil. A devil that is staring right at him with his pale eyes, icy and yet scorching hot. He had never fooled him, not once, with his words, but those eyes? Those had clawed him and dragged him down, he can feel them burn right through his dead skin and cold flesh.

He smirks and never stops staring, even when Philly comes over babbling about how he should resume his job, Simon doesn’t react until he steps into his visual field, then he places a hand right over the poor guy’s face and pushes him aside, tearing an amused chuckle from Kieren and apparently that is all Simon was expecting because he finally turns to Philip and starts arguing. Kieren realizes the smile isn’t leaving his lips for a while after and he thinks “what the hell, might as well let the devil tempt me”, he knows already where he’s going when he dies again, after all. Always knew.

 

Simon had lived a sad, aching, throbbing life, always restless to move on but too bitter to fit into anything, an existence wasted away until he killed himself out of Sloth. He had lived an even sadder second life, more aching and more throbbing than anything he felt on his first ride, finding himself as one of the first to find back some control, he had the fleeting illusion he could have used at least that second existence to accomplish something, open the way to a sensible change, even if it all was pain and loneliness and not remembring at first. In the end though, it all was pain and loneliness and remembering everything, as if he lived through it all again and he begged to stop, to go back to being dead. He had seen hate and despair into his father’s eyes, pushing him away the one time he wanted to stay, his broken voice accusing him of having killed his own mother.

And now here he is, after everything he went through, that is the moment he finds more painful than anything else: looking at Kieren and knowing that the road to salvation is paved with his corpse. He will be granted redemption, the one thing he tried to grasp through his whole life and afterlife and now it would be so easy to reach, if only he thrust the blade through Kieren’s skull. Oh, but damnation is far more tempting. How beautiful it is in its frame, how forgiving in its speech, how absolutely perfect. And there it is, what he believes and then him; he will be granted salvation but at which cost. It is painful and the most difficult battle he ever fought. The churchbells toll once, twice, three and four times and he doesn’t need them to get to twelve because in the battle between deliverance and perdition there’s only one winner.

And as the gunshot echoes through the silence, the only thing Simon sees is Kieren and how had he believed even for one second that he wasn’t heading down? He’s falling to the pit and he had never been more at peace.

 

-*-

 

Kieren’s fingers scrape uselessly at the wallpaper while he tries to keep himself upright, his whole body shivering at the way Simon’s hands are clawing and owning him, his lips are no less demanding over his neck, he leaves marks behind and if they are never going to fade, Kieren doesn’t care. In front of him, hung on the wall, there’s the huge cross, as if staring at them and as they both know they are lost and damned once and for all, it just feels much more sinful and perfect, Simon now nibbling at his ear, pulling soft moans from his throat.

_Are you ready to face eternal damnation holding your head up high?_

It’s a scorching hot whisper into his ear and Kieren’s legs almost give way while he replies that yes, he’s ready, but what about him, disobeying to those he once knelt in front of, is he ready for that? And Simon chuckles, a low rumble of his deep voice before he makes Kieren turn and that way he has to look at him… it feels like hellfire and it’s simply perfect as Kieren pulls him into an unholy kiss and even more unholy is the way they moan into it, while their hands run all over their chests and shoulders, sides and hips. Simon presses him between the wall and his body, kissing and biting his lips, jaw and neck.

_Please._

It takes Kieren some second to realize Simon is _praying_ to him and he can’t help but beg ‘please’ as well and even if it doesn’t make sense they are putting the devil into one another and they are moving furiously as Simon lifts and presses him against the wall more, biting his neck viciously as he enters his body, Kieren arches and sobs, clinging to him, singing in pleasure and he writhes and calls the other’s name. Simon thrusts wildly, he needs and needs and needs, Kieren cries out, wanting to be burnt just as much and every moan they pull from each other or muffle with consuming kisses pulls them down some more.

It’s a chase to pin down each other’s pleasure, to see one another shatter and crumble, it starts torturous and deep and ends up hard and fast, all their prayers to one another now nothing more than broken words and heated whimpers. Fire burns through their cold veins and along their frozen nerves, until it explodes, until they cry out in pleasure and then slid to the floor, their bodies shivering. Simon places his hand over Kieren’s heart and he does the same with him, so many things go unsaid into the stare they exchange, but only one finds its way and brings a smile to them both.

_Oh Lord, heaven knows, we belong way down below._


End file.
